The Black Man in the Forest
by Trekkiehood
Summary: I was there from the beginning. I was orchestrating it all. I was behind every decision that was made. I am the Black Man in the Forest. This is my Story "The Scarlet Letter" by Nathaniel Hawthorne, told through the eyes of the Black Man in the Forest. I do not own "The Scarlet Letter".


**This was written as a class assignment to tell the story of "The Scarlet Letter" from the perspective of a character or object in the story. I chose the Black Man in the Forest.**

 **This is his story.**

 **~A~**

It's interesting, isn't it? The story seems to have little to do with me. When in reality, I was there all along. I go by many names. Some call me Satan, other's the Devil. But for now, you can call me the Black Man in the forest.

You are wondering about the story no? The story of Hester Prynne and Arthur Dimmesdale. _Minister_ Dimmesdale. The story of the Scarlet Letter, the A. In all honesty, it's my story.

You see, I was there from the beginning. I was the one who planted the first seed in the Minister's heart. I was standing there when Hester first caught his eye. I whispered in his ear that he should visit her. No one would think anything of it. He often made visits to his congregation.

But, when he finally came, it was Hester who I spoke to. Reminding her that her husband had sent her away, that he was old and how she never loved him.

It took time, but in the end, the sin was committed. Wanting Hester to dive in deeper, I reminded her of ways to kill the child. I implored her to end the child's life before it even began. However, she was too strong. But, it was okay. The town soon found out about her sin.

For months they tried to persuade her to tell who the father was. I left her to her own devices. I knew she would never tell. She loved Dimmesdale too much.

No, it was the Minster I visited. I would not allow him to tell his secret. I too much enjoyed watching as he inwardly tortured himself. Knowing he was sinning against who he thought was his God when in reality I had become his ruler.

Hester took her punishment with grace. Again, I let her be. Her shame would carry on as she cared for young Pear. I visited the child occasionally. I watched in amusement as she grew to hate the Puritan children. I smiled as she begged her mother to take her to the forest. My dear friend Mistress Hibbons was doing her job well.

It was in the forest when I really came into play. It is where I am the strongest. When we met Hester, I could see she had begun to repent. We couldn't let that continue. But, Dimmesdale was miserable as I had intended.

With no Pearl, they thought they were alone. They were so sure of it. They were wrong. I was there to whisper in both of their ears. I was nearly beside myself with glee when Hester excepted my suggestion to run away with Dimmesdale. He was such a weak man, I needed Hester to be in on it if I wanted anything to happen.

The strange Elf-child appeared and nearly ruined the plan, but once the thought was planted in their mind, there was no going back.

I followed Dimmesdale home. He was so evily delightful. I didn't even need to suggest to him to teach the children naughty words or speak evil to his congregation. In the end, he did not, but the thoughts were there of his own free will. It was delightful! When we met with Mistress Hibbons, I gave her a small nod. She then knew that we had come from the forest. My power of Dimmesdale made that obvious.

Realizing I was no longer needed, I decided to stir things up a bit and meet with my dear friend, Chillingworth. He had signed my book the day he had seen Hester on that scaffold. I informed him of Hester and the Minister's plan. I knew he would take care of it from there, I headed back to the forest.

I visited once again on Election Day. I was not prepared for what Dimmesdale had in store. When he called Hester and Pearl onto the scaffold, I realized what he was going to do. I tried to stop him, I told him he would die if he confessed. But, he had overcome my power.

He confessed before dying. But, they still would have found out no doubt. Chillingworth had requested that an A, be burnt into Dimmesdale's chest from the inside out. And now, everyone saw it.

On that day, much of my influence in the small Puritan town disappeared. The day Hibbons was finally hung as a witch, I left the forest and began to travel around.

People think I'm gone. People think I'm a myth. But, I'm not. I'm still around today.

I am the Black Man in the Forest.

~A~

 **Please let me know what you thought!**

 **God bless,**

 **Trekkiehood**


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